


In the Arms of the Angels

by marvel_fanfictions



Series: song fics [2]
Category: Agent Carter (TV), Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Character Death, Depressed Steve Rogers, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Feels, Hurt/Comfort, References to Depression, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, What Have I Done, Why Did I Write This?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-02
Updated: 2018-09-02
Packaged: 2019-07-06 01:31:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15875745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marvel_fanfictions/pseuds/marvel_fanfictions
Summary: Peggy finally passes away





	In the Arms of the Angels

**Author's Note:**

> all copy right goes to marvel and Sarah Mclachlan, I do not own anything

Steve had been caught in a rut. He was stuck on a routine in his boring life. Run. Shower. Get dressed. Do errands or chores for the day. Eat dinner. Go to bed. Over and over and over, day by day by boring day. He never noticed anyone, no one really asked him to go out with them. No one invited him anywhere. The only thing that ever changed was when he was on missions. Most nights he hardly even slept, without anything new to distract his thoughts, he was placed by flashback after flashback- combat, or even just personally related to him with family and friends he remembered through his life.

_Spend all your time waiting_  
_for that second chance_  
_for a break that would make it okay_  
_there's always some reason_  
_to feel not good enough_  
_and it's hard at the end of the day_  
_I need some distraction_  
_oh beautiful release_  
_memories seep from my veins_  
_let me be empty_  
_and weightless and maybe_  
_I'll find some peace tonight_

 It was an average, boring day until Steve was sipping his coffee, having stopped for lunch at Starbucks when he got the call. Sharon was on the other end, trying not to sound as distraught as she was. "She's gone Steve... She's passed," her voice was barely a whisper, but that whisper sounded louder to Steve than anything he had heard before, his world crumbling down around him as the words echoed.

 _so tired of the straight line_  
_and everywhere you turn_  
_there's vultures and thieves at your back_  
_and the storm keeps on twisting_  
_you keep on building the lies_  
_that you make up for all that you lack_

Steve abruptly got up to head to his apartment, but barely managed to head outside before he stumbled into an alleyway. It wasn't long before Steve finally broke, a sob working its way out of the man and causing him to lean against the brick wall outside and sliding down the coarse, hard structure to the ground as heavy, fast flowing tears streamed down his cheeks.

 _it don't make no difference_  
_escaping one last time_  
_it's easier to believe in this sweet madness oh_  
_this glorious sadness that brings me to my knees_

The last person to have know who he truly was under the cowl and behind the shield, from before it even existed. the last person to remember him for who he truly was, and not for his status in society. The last person to love him for him, and not for being Americas Golden Boy.

 _in the arms of the angel_  
_fly away from here_  
_from this dark cold hotel room_  
_and the endlessness that you fear_  
_you are pulled from the wreckage_  
_of your silent reverie_

 _  
_ The ceremony was short to say in the least; Steve had been a pallbearer, and only family and friends had been invited. Simple and straight to the point. Just like Peggy liked things. She is survived by Steve and her three kids, many grandchildren and even more great grandchildren. She lived a very adventurous life, one she was mostly proud of. She was buried next to her husband in the Manhattan cemetery.

For the following days after the funeral, Steve was still broken hearted. With no family to fall back on, and hardly any friends he could count on at the moment since they had all been called in for their jobs- missions in other countries halfway around the world to clarify- he had practically locked himself in his bedroom all day long, only getting up if he had to use the bathroom really.

Steve had finally fallen into a new routine until Natasha had come back from her recent mission in Nigeria almost a week later and had heard the news. Immediately she heade to check in on Steve, knowing how upset he must have been. She grew increasingly concerned when she saw Steve's motorcycle was present and Steve wasn't answering the door.

Finally Natasha had let herself in, knowing Steve would have locked the door if he left, since it was too late in the day for his usual runs. She was shocked, to put it simple. The house looked practically untouched, like the owner had up and left without any sign of return, until she entered the bedroom, and saw the hump of a sleeping body under the pile of covers in the bed, the blinds closed to fight off and intervening presence.

"Steve?" She says softly and the mass slowly stirred, mumbling incoherently as he sat up.

Natasha immediately was repulsed at the sight of her friend. The blond's usually immaculate hair was sticking out in strange places and laying flat where his head has been buried into the pillow. There were dark shadows under his eyes, his cheeks hollow from what she guessed was lack of food, and his shirt was wrinkled extremely as if he had worn it all week, which she supposed he had.

"oh Steve," she says softly again as she walked over to sit next to him on the edge of the bed. That was all it took before Steve practically grappled her for an embrace, which she returned as he finally broke into a sob into her shoulder. She hugged him tightly as she rubbed his back, trying to comfort him any way she could.

"She's gone," he says through his sobs, clutching Natasha tighter. the red head, who was surprisingly quite tender and comforting, despite her usual disposition simply held him, knowing all he needed was for someone to be there for him. Even the strongest people had their breaking points. It was just a matter of time.

 _you're in the arms of the angel_  
_may you find some comfort here_  
_you're in the arms of the angel_  
_may you find some comfort here_

**Author's Note:**

> though I recently did just see it, this is in no way related to Civil War. No, earlier today I heard Angels by Sarah Mclachlan and got a sad idea. (this was written in 2016, and published in another one of my stories. Now rereading it I am seeing how awful it is lol.)


End file.
